Micromanagment in a Macro World
by ilovetvalot
Summary: Post ep 5x07. Assumes an established Prentiss/Rossi relationship. A peeved Emily decides to punish Rossi. Will be two chapters.
1. Chapter 1

**Micromanagement in a Macro World**

**Chapter One**

Scooping the cool water into her hands in the tiny jet bathroom, Emily took a deep breath as she splashed her face, praying the temperature of the water would lend some of it rejuvenating powers to her now. Lifting her head to look in the small mirror over the sink, the whir of the plane's engine was almost deafening in the small enclosure. But even that sound was more welcome than the sniping and complaining she'd spent the last four days enduring. Everyone was unhappy…thrown off kilter by the sudden changes rocking their small, once-cohesive unit. And that man….that man she loved, she reminded herself….he hadn't done anything to dispel the tension.

One word from him and he could quiet the noise. One conversation with either of the alpha males struggling for the superior position, and he could have eliminated the drama of the last few days. Instead, he'd spent the case at the station for the majority of the time, allegedly working victomology with Reid. But she knew the truth….the rat was hiding, throwing her into the fray in his place. When she'd approached the issue with him on that second night at the hotel, he'd said he'd had his reasons, though he'd steadfastly refused to explain himself. The stubborn fool.

So, now, she was going to beat him at his own game. SHE was going to refuse HIM. Taking a page from his book, she would ignore him until such time as he explained himself to her. After all, after the suffering she'd endured over the course of this case, all because of his sheer will, it was the least she could do to pay him back. She deserved that explanation, damn it. As far as she was concerned, dealing with Hotch and Morgan, in tandem, allowed her certain rights. Unalienable rights.

Straightening her fitted shirt and feeling completely validated in her decision, she reached for the bathroom door, opening it quickly and moving quickly back to her lone seat at the back of the plane. She was going to read her paperback book and allow the trashy, completely pointless romance novel to sooth her frazzled nerves. And, above all, she was going to ignore the arrogant David Rossi.

Watching the tall raven-haired agent exit the small bathroom at the back of the plane, Rossi was vaguely aware of the soft conversation of his colleagues around him, but his attention was definitely elsewhere. Frowning at the tense set of her face and the stiff way she walked to her seat, he knew he had some explaining to do. Her displeasure with him had been apparent for days, obviously having reached a boiling point now. But explaining his reasoning and motivations to others had never been a strong suit. But looking at the woman he loved as she lowered her tired body into the leather seat of the plane, he knew he was going to have to make an exception.

His Emily was going to demand nothing less than his full concession. And he supposed he owed her one after the last few days.

And then, there was the fact that, in order for his lips to touch any expanse of that gorgeous alabaster skin, he was going to need to make things right between them. He hadn't intentionally meant for her to be caught in the ongoing power struggle between Hotch and Morgan. Really, he hadn't. But the only way those two were going to work this out between them was if he wasn't there to mediate. That, and he didn't relish the thought of being caught in the middle. His days of jumping headfirst into the fray were behind him, maturity and experience teaching him a few memorable lessons. Best to remove himself from the battle entirely. He was a senior agent. He could do that, couldn't he?

But watching his beautiful Emily's rigid expression now as she pretended to be engrossed in that stupid book she held in her hand, he was beginning to doubt the wisdom of his prior actions. It was becoming glaringly obvious that he might have made a tactical error. And, damn! He hated it when that happened.


	2. Chapter 2

**Micromanagement in a Macro World**

**Chapter Two**

Slowly leaning forward in his seat, he grasped the seat in front of him, pulling himself to his feet. Standing upright, he could feel the slight vibrations of the engine's thrusts below his feet as he slowly makes his way toward the back of the plane, finally dropping against the cool leather bench seat beside her. "Hey," he murmured, leaning toward her, close enough to smell the scent that was distinctly Emily.

Frowning as she stared down at the jumble of printed words on the page in front of her, Emily debated her response as she attempted to ignore his presence. Settling for a simple inclination of her head, she continued to gaze aimlessly at the book, the words long since having stopped making any kind of since to her muddled brain.

Watching her for a few seconds as she sat tensely beside him, he turned his gaze out the window beside her, settling on the pale blue sky as their plane soared through the air. "You know, you can't ignore me forever. We live in the same house now," he reminded her, his voice filled with no small measure of pride. Convincing this wonderful woman to share her life with him had taken skills he hadn't known he possessed. But, like everything he did in life, he'd persevered. His payoff was that they'd been cohabiting in the same abode for over two months.

Not bothering to raise her eyes, Emily muttered, "I'm not ignoring you, Dave. I simply have nothing to say to you. You know, much like you didn't have anything to share with me these last four days."

Frowning at the petulant tone in her voice, Dave sighed. Her anger was deeper than he had first realized, and she obviously needed more than trite words. "I had a theory, Emmy," he rumbled beside her.

"I might be channeling Penelope Garcia here, but your so-called theory, whatever it was, SUCKED," Emily said precisely, her words clipped as she precisely placed a paper bookmark in between the crisp pristine pages.

"I think one Penelope Garcia is more than enough in the world, don't you?" Dave offered with a roll of his eyes, suppressing a smile as he listened to the alien phrase roll of her tongue. "I want Emily Prentiss," he demanded, his persuasive voice dark and deep as he inched closer.

"I don't think you do," Emily said slowly refusing to acknowledge how much that voice of his could make her heartbeat accelerate. "Because THAT woman wants to kill you and hide your body where it'll never be found," Emily said prissily, raising her shield ever-so-slightly in defense.

"Again, Em, I had my reasons for choosing to do things this way," Dave attempted to explain, narrowing his eyes as he watched her raise her head, that long expanse of beautiful skin on her neck drawing his attention, like it always had.

"Of course you did," Emily said simply, shrugging her shoulders as she dismissed his easy words.

"If you'll let me explain…," Dave began, gauging the woman in front of him, needing to find her tells. But experience had taught him that was never an easy job when it came to this woman.

Glancing quickly at him, she maintained her neutral expression as she primly folded her hands against her lap. "You mean, let you explain why, instead of going yourself, you threw ME, the woman you PROFESS to love, into that scary parallel universe where Morgan has become Hotch, anal retentive and picky, and Hotch has become Morgan, cocksure and flammable? No, thank you. I think it's too late for that," Emily replied, her pleasant tone belying the furious set of her face.

"Okay," Dave conceded on a sigh, watching the flashing sparkles that invaded her eyes in moments like this. "When you put it that way, it sounds pretty bad," he admitted grudgingly,

"No, Dave, not sounds…it WAS bad," Emily growled under her breath. Lifting burning eyes to his, she continued, "And all this while you hid at the police station behind JJ's legs."

"I was not hiding, Emily," Dave retorted, his arrogant pride rising to the fore. "I was allowing those two to reach some kind of new working relationship without my interference."

"Well, thank you, Dave, for THAT!" Emily snapped, jerkily shifting against the airplane seat as the plane swayed against a sudden burst of wind.

"Hell, Emily, it was going to happen sooner or later. As much as I'd have liked to prevent it, it was better this little skirmish occurred now." Seeing her expression darken at his explanation, he continued quickly, "You're right, I could have gone out into the field and refereed the team and put a band-aid on the boo boo. But you can't expect me to do that on every case. That isn't my job and it isn't yours either."

"Perhaps," Emily granted slowly, his words beginning to sink in, passing her defenses. Cocking her head to the side, she added, "But right now, our team is still too fragile…we're on the verge of cracking under all these sudden changes being thrown at us."

"Better we crack now when the pieces can be easily put back together quickly," Dave returned readily, leaning back against the leather seat as he settled more comfortably. Continuing quickly as she opened her mouth to respond, he said, "BUT we didn't crack at all, did we? Everybody is on this plane and accounted for, all body parts in place AND we caught the bad guy."

"No, Hotch caught the bad guy. ALONE, with no backup, I'll add," Emily shuddered as she closed her eyes for a bare moment, the memory of how badly that incident could have played out fresh in her mind.

"No, he didn't," Dave corrected gently, shaking his head as he watched her visceral response. "Hotch might have apprehended him, but this team CAUGHT him. And, honestly, you guys have gotta cut the man some slack. It's been a long time since he's done actual field work. I think we can all forgive him for being a little overzealous this time, can't we?"

"Dave-," Emily sighed, finally allowing herself to relax slightly as she turned fully to face him.

Shaking his head, he interrupted her, his voice low but determined as he said, "No, listen to me, Emmy. I know it may seem strange to have a new captain at the helm, but we're still the same crew we were. Whether we're all out in the field or working victomology like I was this time, everyone contributes to piecing together these puzzles we're faced with."

Although she still didn't want to admit it, she had to acknowledge that his words made sense. "Fine," Emily begrudgingly admitted, "I'll give you that one." Raising a well-defined brow, she said, drawing her lips into a tight smile as she beaded her eyes onto his handsome face, "But, I still reserve the right to kill you at a future date and time of my choosing. You've got to sleep sometime."

"Babe, as long as it's you in the bed with me, I don't care what happens," Dave murmured, sliding his warm hand over hers, capturing her fingers easily . Flashing her a wicked grin as he thought about his words, he amended, "On second thought, I do have some pretty definitive ideas on what I'd LIKE to see happen."

"Pervert," Emily muttered, eyes fluttering back to the book in her hand, letting him lace their fingers together.

"So," he asked softly, watching her profile as she once again pretended to read that infernal book, "are we still a team here?" His hopeful words were tinged with expectation, waiting for her response.

Lifting her eyes to look around the plane at the faces of her various colleagues and friends, she replied with a sigh, "I suppose so. Everybody appears to be here and in one relative piece."

Snorting at her obvious confusion, Dave shook his head, smoothing his thumb, gently tracing the veins in the top of her hand. Leaning closer, he said firmly, "You and me, Prentiss. I could give two shits what the rest of the world does. I'm talkin' about you and me. I wanna know at the end of the day, I've got the only teammate that matters by my side."

Nodding slowly, Emily turned her head to offer him a beatific smile, tightening her fingers against his. "There's nobody I'd rather have on my team than you, Dave."

_**FINIS**_


End file.
